The Torture Orchestra by Sarah Ellender

“Aaaurgh.” Two, three, four. “Aaaurgh.” Two, three, four. Really, Percy Cribbs thought, he could do this in his sleep.

When he’d auditioned for the King’s Torture Orchestra, he’d been so nervous he’d been sick twice before his turn. After they told him he’d be playing third groaner, he ran home to his mother and they held hands and jumped around the tiny parlour. Now he could only recall the events intellectually, without a shadow of emotion. He wondered if he could miss the next rehearsal.

He glared at the petty thief, tied and splayed in front of him, as he brought the muffled thumping-stick down on the man’s ribs. “Aaaurgh.” Two dashed years playing third groaner and they palmed the worst instruments off on him. The salary was good, but it was no position for a man of musical ambition. He indulged in a daydream of gaining the most coveted position in the orchestra – first screamer. That instrument was always given the longest solos and permission to improvise. His imagination presented him with the accolades of the audience, the admiring glances of the ladies. Nobody sneered down their nose at first screamer. But how to advance?

He glanced over at the screamer section. Barnsforth had auditioned at the same time as Percy. He had far less talent and he’d been given third screamer. But Barnsforth was the son of a Viscount.

Percy beat with his stick again. “AAAAARGH!” reverberated around an otherwise silent hall. Darberville, the conductor, slammed his baton against his music stand and looked at Percy over his half-moon glasses. “Mr Cribbs. If you would be so good as to not play in the rest we would all appreciate it.”

“You can’t expect a grubby little cobbler’s boy to know when to stop hitting,” shouted Barnsforth. “Too used to banging in hobnails.”

“Once more from the beginning,” said Darberville and the whole orchestra groaned.

~

After rehearsal Percy, another third groaner, and a third grunter went to a nearby ale house.

“Darberville’s never going to promote me to second,” said Percy.

“He won’t if you play as you did today, old chap.” said the other groaner. “You need to concentrate.”

“Groaner’s not my first instrument,” said Percy. “You should hear me on the screamer. If Darberville would give me a murderer to play on I could really show him what I can do.”

“You and half the orchestra.” said the grunter. “Nobody starts in the screamers unless they’re aristocracy.”

“You’ve got to put in your time and if Darberville likes your work he’ll move you over,” said the other groaner. “Attention, study, practice, application. That’ll get you recognised.”

“Helps if you’re born with a silver spoon,” said the grunter. “Like Barnsforth. Although Duke Huntingdon would have kept him out if could. And even if you get in the screamers, you’ll go in at the bottom, and then it’s a case of dead men’s shoes.”

Percy looked up, his face brightening.

“That’s the spirit, old chap,” said the other groaner. “Do your best with your current instrument and wait for your opportunity.”

“Yes,” said Percy. “Study, practice, opportunity, application.”

~

Now Percy had a plan, he had new energy. He practised for hours on the groaner every day. After a few weeks, he earned an approving nod and a “much improved” from Darberville.

He studied the subject of Lord Barnsforth, too. He would never move in the same social circles, but there were people on the periphery happy to exchange gossip for a pint or two of ale. When Percy heard rumours that Barnsforth had heavy gaming debts to Duke Huntingdon, who played second screamer, he recognised the opportunity he’d been waiting for. He went to visit Barnsforth at his lodgings.

The servant tried to close the door in his face, but Percy persisted.

Barnsforth finally appeared. “What do you want Cribbs? I suppose you’ve got some message from Darberville.”

“I have an arrangement to propose to you. For the benefit of both of us.”

“I don’t need any shoes mending,” said Barnsforth. But he didn’t call the servant to show Percy out.

“I would like to rent your instrument, for practice.”

“I see.” Barnsforth sniffed at Percy. “Really, standards are dropping in the King’s. I shall try out for the Conservatoire as soon as there’s a place.” But he didn’t say no. Instead he agreed a price and said, “Don’t speak to me again. You can come on a Sunday, when the servants are out. Come round to back entrance and bring the money with you.”

~

Percy went every week to practice with the hot pokers and knives that were used on a screamer. He put in a few months until he was swift, sure and precise. Then it was time for the application of his plan.

On the next Sunday Percy brought an identical cutting knife to Barnsforth’s and swapped it for one with his crest on the handle. While Barnsforth was occupied in his library, Percy took one of his letters of business and slipped it in his pocket. He practised at home until he could produce a credible copy of Barnforth’s hand.

The next time he heard that Duke Huntingdon was running a gaming night, Percy followed Barnsforth there unseen and waited outside. When Barnsforth came out, Percy sent in a note to the Duke, in a copy of Barnsforth’s writing, requesting a meeting in the alley around the corner.

“Well sir,” said the Duke, “Are you ready to pay your debts like a gentleman?”

Percy stepped out of the shadows and neatly slashed the Duke’s throat, sidestepping the sudden spray. He let the knife with Barnsforth’s crest fall from his gloved hands and ran. The next day he went to rehearsal as usual, and waited for the King’s men to put everything together.

~

Percy didn’t mind the sneers from his fellow musicians as he took his place as fourth screamer. Hard work had got him here, and hard work would get him to the top. Those who’d never worked a day of their life wouldn’t understand. Of course, as the new boy, he was given the newest, untried and untuned instrument. A murderer who had the audacity to kill a higher-ranking noble over gambling debts.

Percy smiled down at Barnsforth, bound on a playing frame. He flicked his cutting-knife, producing a raw shriek.

“Not bad, Mr. Cribbs,” said Darberville. “A little more piano if you please.”

Percy nodded. Good advice. Rumour had it that one of the seconds was taking laudanum. He’d give it six months before he’d help with the dosage.

The Torture Orchestra by Sarah Ellender was read by Paul Clarke at the Gentlemen & Players event at Liars' League on Tuesday 12 April 2009

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